Sharing Control
by Miss Toughie
Summary: John and Punk have managed to find a balance in their relationship that is perfect for the both of them. But one failed prank sends them both spiraling back down to uncertainty. What will it take for them to get back on course and which of them will make it happen? Sequel to Learning to Share Control.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay, so this was supposed to be posted months ago, I actually started working on it in March, but it just didn't seem to happen. This is just a cute little follow up to Learning to Share Control. Just a word of warning, there is no where near as much angst in this story. If anyone remembers me mentioning an epilogue well, this is it. Hope it lives up to what everyone liked so much about the first story. Enjoy!_

_P.S. Of course, as always, I own nothing and no one, all the characters mentioned in this story belong to themselves and the WWE. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

November 16, 2012

_He must still be mad_, Punk thought as he did his best to keep up with John who was storming down the hotel hallway. Punk had learned over the last few months about dealing with John's temper and remained silent, just taking in his lover's actions. Seconds after reaching their room, the larger man's quick and efficient movements had the door swinging open, but before Punk could make a step towards the threshold, John was through the entrance and slamming the door in his face.

"No he's not mad, he's flat out pissed." Punk softly said to himself.

Trying to remain as quiet as possible while he entered the room, Punk immediately sought out the man who held so much power over him, it still scared him at times. After looking at John and taking in his tense posture as he dug through the suitcase, Punk had to hold back another sigh. This was bad, no, he corrected himself, this was _dangerous_ territory.

Deciding that he needed to say something, but knowing that he needed to tread carefully, Punk spoke cautiously. "I'm sorry sir, I got it back as soon as I could."

Still John said nothing, he didn't even look up at him.

Punk felt his temper rising at John's apparent indifference to his presence and words. "It's not like I wanted to lose my collar. I don't even like taking it off but I have to for matches. You should know that."

John's eyes flared when he heard the tone that Punk was using. Punk saw this and knew what was coming, but he wasn't given enough time to react. John immediately walked across the space dividing them, his finger's wrapping firmly around his sub's throat. Not tightly enough to cause him any harm, but just enough to remind Punk of the dynamic between the two individuals.

"Watch it boy, don't you think you're in enough trouble as it is?" John told him, his voice steady and deep.

Punk quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, knowing that the gesture told his master more than any words could ever say. Being faced with John's anger full force was enough to have the tears Punk had been struggling to hold at bay spring to his eyes again.

"Get in the bathroom and shower. We need to get to bed."

Finding a small bit of comfort in following the orders, Punk scrambled to obey. Once in the shower, he couldn't help but to continue pouring over the last few hours, reliving the shame and heartache that he had recently experienced at the arena.

His night shouldn't have been like this. He and John should have been enjoying the fact that they had put on yet another amazing match. They should have been just starting their night lying in bed together. But instead he was stuck in misery, anxiously waiting for what his master would do next, all because of some careless practical joke. Another sob filled the small area as Punk revisited the images of that evening.

At first, whenever Punk had to take his collar off, mostly only when he had to go out to the ring, John kept it safe until Punk could get back and he could place it back around his neck, where it belonged.

But lately, their storylines meant that John had to be in the ring with him, so Punk had placed the chain in his bag and left for his match like he had done on so many other nights. But on that night, thinking it would be funny, Kofi stole Punk's tags not understanding what it represented to the couple.

Punk understood on an intellectual level that his friend didn't actually know what he had taken. Both John and he had decided that the inner workings of their relationship didn't need to be public knowledge. Because of that, he had told people that he wore the tags by his own choice to feel closer to John. Although, Punk grimaced, after his breakdown at discovering the tags missing, Kofi and everybody else that happened to have been in the locker room had to know that the tags held more of an importance than Punk had previously let on.

Once Kofi saw Punk tearing apart his bags and flinging his possessions in his panic to find the collar, he had quickly retrieved it from the hiding spot and returned the chain with an apology and explanation.

But it hadn't been soon enough. A few of the roster members sought John out when Punk started throwing things around like a madman. The majority of people they associated with may not have any clue as to what their exact relationship was, but everybody knew that Cena and he were a couple, that they didn't hide. They all also noticed that John always seemed to have a calming affect on the sometimes high strung champion.

With one look, John had Punk spilling the entire situation out to him. Punk couldn't hold back another eye roll at himself as he reminisced. He may once have been a decent liar, but John had broken him of that habit quickly, at least when it came to lying to his master. When John had asked him what happened, he hadn't even thought of anything but telling the truth, no matter the consequences. But now, as he leaned against the tile wall sensing the water become cooler, he started to rethink whether or not the truth was worth those promised consequences John mentioned.

Finally, deciding that he had delayed enough, Punk climbed out of the shower and dried himself off quickly before returning to the main room naked but for his collar, just as his Master preferred him to be when they were in private. But what was waiting on him did nothing to sooth his frazzled nerves. After a quick once over that left him feeling colder than the frosty November air, John simply lifted one side of the covers, silently directing him to get into the bed. Once he was safely under the covers, John turned his back and went into the bathroom himself. Leaving Punk to do nothing but lay and stare at the door hoping that his Master wouldn't be too long and wondering what would happen when he did return.

After a tortuous few minutes where time seemed to slow, Punk heard the shower shut off. Shortly after that, a naked John entered the room not even glancing in Punk's direction. Soon, he disappeared from Punk's line of vision and Punk felt the bed dip down behind him as John slid under the covers as well. Punk waited for John to move closer and wrap his arms around him like he always did. But those arms never came. John just continued to lie on his side of the bed, the space between the two bodies seeming insurmountable to Punk.

The realization that John had no intention of holding him throughout the night, took away Punk's breath. Before he knew what was happening, his body started to shake with the effort to hold back his tears. Just as he felt on the verge of a total breakdown, strong arms encased his chest and pulled him across the bed to press against the warmth of his lover's body.

"Shh, love, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at the situation and I'm taking it out on you. I should never have done that, I was wrong to do so and I'm sorry. I hate that you can't wear my collar permanently even though I understand why you can't."

John continued rubbing Punk's back and muttering loving words in his sub's ear in an attempt to calm his lover. The minutes slowly ticked by, the night slowly creeping past, until both men eventually fell into a fitful sleep, Punk clinging to John, silently begging for reassurance and finding it in the strength of the arms that stayed wrapped around him all night.

* * *

After seemingly endless hours of laying in the darkened room, the horrible night ended and John and Punk were loading their suitcases, each preparing to go to opposite sides of the country with their respective tours. Both of the men could feel the aftershocks the previous night was leaving on their relationship, but neither knew how to broach the subject. Before long, John was standing at the door, suitcase in hand, summoning Punk to his side. He knew he couldn't leave with the situation as it was.

Once Punk was within reach, John shot his hand out, wrapping his fist in Punk's chain and pulling his man even closer. "I love you, you're mine. We're going to fight and were going to have blow ups with each other, we both know that, but this collar means we're in this forever. Right?"

"Yes Master." Punk replied, his sullen mood lifting at hearing John remind him that neither of them were going anywhere.

"Good boy." John told him before swinging Punk around and firmly pressing him against the door, his hand never leaving the collar as his other raised to grip Punk's head in a firm grasp. By the time the two men broke apart, both panting, Punk had raised his legs to wrap around John's waist. "I have to go." John quietly told him, almost against his will.

"I know." Punk told him, equally as quiet, as he reluctantly lowered his legs. With one final press of lips, John grabbed the handle to his case and left the room. Punk stared at the door silently before working his way across the room to finish his own packing.

* * *

Punk sat on his couch staring blankly at his comic. He couldn't seem to gain the energy it would take to focus on the story and find out what was happening. The scenes with John just kept playing over and over in his mind. It had been weeks since the whole thing had happened, but Punk could still see the images clearly.

The look of disappointment on his Master's face when he told him he couldn't find his collar, the anger coursing behind those bright blue eyes in the hotel room when Punk had raised his voice and the sadness he saw floating around those same eyes when John had admitted why the situation had upset him so. Punk understood, he wanted to have his collar with him at all times too, but their profession just didn't allow that.

And now, after weeks of these thoughts tormenting him, here he was, stuck at home healing from another injury, another surgery. And John couldn't even be here with him.

As much as that fact hurt, Punk couldn't help feeling like it just might be a good thing. It finally gave him the chance he needed to really sit down and rationalize everything. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that there was only one thing he wanted to do. He had been thinking about it for awhile, but the fight with John had finally just put everything in perspective and he knew that this was what he needed to do. Punk glanced at the time displayed above his television, before reaching for his phone and placing the calls to set everything in motion.

* * *

Cutting the engine after pulling into the garage, John rested his head back against the seat, allowing the silence and cool air of the night to ease some of his tension. He hadn't seen his lover in too many days. A fact made only more painful to him when he thought about the fact that Punk was injured, and if there was ever a time for him to need John, it was now. He took little comfort in the fact that Punk repeatedly told him he understood and that there was no reason for him to be upset. It didn't really matter, it was his job to look after Punk, to keep him safe, and he had truly failed at both of those lately. The way things were going, John wouldn't be surprised to find that Punk was tired of dealing with all this and was done with John.

Shaking his head to try to dispel those terrifying thoughts, John climbed from the car and rounded to the back to grab his suitcase. The closer he got to the door, the faster his heart started to pound. He tried to rationalize with himself, it was well after midnight. It was more likely that he would find Punk asleep on the couch with a comic book across his chest than awake and waiting for him. His lover might be an insomniac but since his surgery, Punk seemed to sleep more than ever. At first John was worried about depression, but none of the other signs fit. Multiple confrontations about the subject finally got Punk to admit just how bad the pain was and that sleeping was the only time he wasn't miserable with it. John accepted and somewhat understood Punk's aversion to drugs of any kind, even those meant to help, but that didn't mean he liked seeing his man in pain when he didn't need to be. He would never push the pills though, and if sleeping helped then John would personally see to it whenever he could that Punk never had to climb out of bed until it was absolutely necessary.

Stumbling his way through the door, John found himself in a darkened kitchen. He stopped for a few seconds to look around. He didn't see anything out of place and everything seemed very quiet. He was right, Punk must have fallen asleep before John made it home. With a sigh, John went to place his keys in the area unofficially designated for his them, and his hand fell on some paper that shouldn't be there. More specifically, a comic book that shouldn't be there. "What the hell is he up to now?" John mumbled quietly. Punk treated those things with more respect than he did most human beings, it wasn't like him to just leave one laying around, especially not in such a strange place.

Running his hand along the wall to find the light switch, John flicked the tiny lever and filled the room with light. Another look at this comic showed that a piece of paper was sitting on top. John was beginning to feel the corner of his mouth tugging up. One thing he had quickly learned over the last few months was that his boyfriend had some strange quirks and wasn't ashamed to pull John into his world as well. Closer inspection showed the paper filled with Punk's neat, small script.

"Got a surprise for you. I couldn't even begin to think of using something as dumb as rose petals to leave a trail, so just follow the comic books to your present."

"I don't know if I'm prepared for this." John mumbled to himself. He knew that Punk having this much time off due to his injury and being left without supervision would lead to something crazy, and now it had. He just didn't know exactly what Punk had planned, and he couldn't figure out if that made him more nervous or excited.

Leaving all his luggage by the door, John advanced farther into his home, keeping an eye out for the next comic and wondering where exactly this trail was going to lead. After making his way into the living room, media room and office, John found himself being directed up the staircase. He didn't know what exactly it was, but there was something about this that was making the blood rush through his system. He was on the hunt, his primal instincts were kicking in and coursing through his body. He was an alpha through and through, he knew this, accepted this and his mind was screaming at him to hunt down and claim what was his, and he planned to do just that.

Finally, he rounded the corner to his and Punk's shared bedroom, and found one of the most delectable sights he could ever remember. His lover was standing at the end of their bed, leaning over the mattress and offering his ass in the greatest fashion. To top it all off, Punk had found a set of handcuffs and applied them to himself. His lover was offering himself up on a silver platter and John couldn't keep the growl from escaping deep within his chest.

Unable to control himself any longer, John strode across the room in a few short steps, determined to take what was being willing given. He allowed his vision to roam over the sight in front of him, down one lean leg and up the other before settling hungrily on that perfect ass. But something wasn't quite right, and once John was able to slow down enough to take it all in, he saw what was off and his steps faltered and he all but fell to his knees behind Punk.

As gorgeous and perfect as John had always found Punk's ass, his vision was locked on something else, something new. Punk had a new tattoo, and the sight of it was leaving John speechless.

"When did you get this?" John asked in a hoarse whisper, still not sure he was really seeing the mark.

"A few days ago, I wanted it to be a surprise for you when you got home Sir. I, um, I know I probably should have asked your permission first Sir, but I…" Punk's voice faltered and eventually trailed off. John could just imagine him nibbling on his bottom lip as his nerves took over.

"Shh," John quickly cut Punk off when he realized where he was going with the statement. "It's perfect." John said, unable to keep himself from leaning forward and rubbing his lips lightly over the reddened area surrounding the new tat. John heard Punk's breath hitch just before a small, almost silent, whimper escaped the younger man. John knew what he wanted, but he also knew that wasn't going to happen. Even though it just might kill him to hold himself back from taking the pliant body on display for him and him alone.

"No sex, I refuse to inflict any pain on you that you wouldn't enjoy and I know there is no way for me to not touch that gorgeous marking over and over again. And I know that would hurt you, at least for a few days."

"But Sir, it's mostly…"

"No buts." John said with a sharp slap to the non-marked cheek. "Once you're fully healed we'll have a marathon session that will have you panting and begging for mercy, I promise." John told him in a breathy voice directly into his ear before trailing his lips down to bite his neck. John could feel Punk trembling beneath his hands as if he wanted to move but then realized there was nothing he could do but whimper yet again causing a shot of pure delight to run through John's body and settle into his cock.

"No sex until I'm completely healed means it'll be days sir, and it's already been so long." John could tell Punk was aiming for a sultry voice, and he pulled it off very well. Almost well enough to make John change his mind. Almost.

"I know sexy, just consider that your punishment for going and marking yourself without your master's permission." Not that John minded, but if it would make his boy squirm, there was no way he was going to pass up that opportunity.

"Yes sir, but that means you'll be going without too." Punk told him, the smugness in his voice shinning through. John's eyebrow slowly raised, it was obvious the boy thought he had backed John into a corner. And that just wouldn't do.

Moving quicker than anyone would expect, John had a hand wrapped around the back of Punk's head and the other grasping the chain holding the cuffs together. Licking a long stripe up his lover's neck, John finished up at his ear, running the tip of his tongue along the sensitive outer shell. He loved knowing all Punk's sweet spots, it just made him that much hotter and excited to get his hands on the slim body. With a soft whisper, John told Punk, "I didn't say I would be going without getting off also boy."

Using a slight amount of strength, John shoved Punk to his knees before pulling his hard and weeping cock out and presenting it to his sub. It was all John could do to hold back coming when Punk looked up at him with those deep brown eyes through long lashes before opening his mouth and allowing John's manhood to slide all the way back his throat. God help him, but this boy was good. And judging by the smirk John could just make out around his dick, Punk knew it too.

* * *

_A/N: There is a second part, it's already wrote and I'll be posting it tomorrow. This was just a really long story for a one-shot, so I broke it up into two :) Can't wait to see what everyone thought of it!_


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks, it had been two weeks of waiting and misery. John had gone back out on the road after four days still holding strong to not fucking Punk while his tattoo was still healing. Punk thought he was going to go out of his mind with want. It had been weeks, almost months, since he had felt his master sink into him and stretch him, driving him crazy with burning pleasure. It was almost to the point of being too much.

But John was coming home tonight, back to him, and he couldn't wait. His only concern now was just how long John was going to make him wait once he made it home. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to be fucked into the mattress tonight, he was just unsure of how much fun his master wanted to have first, how much he was going to have to endure before it happened. And he was looking forward to every tantalizing minute of it.

He'd planned everything as best he could. He was probably going to get his ass paddled for changing the lock on the kitchen door leading to the garage. But he had to make sure John came into the house through their front door.

Where he would see Punk kneeling in the foyer with nothing on but his collar. It was going to be wonderful and he couldn't wait. John's plane was due in at seven and they lived thirty minutes away. But the way John drove, Punk made sure that he was in the exact spot he planned looking perfect by quarter after. And five minutes later, when he heard John's car door slam shut, he couldn't help but grin.

He waited, nervous excitement bubbling inside of him. He repeatedly took deep, calming breaths in the hopes of controlling his fidgeting, but it was just to much. It had been so long since he felt John's arms wrapped around him, his voice whispering in his ear telling him much he loved him and what he meant to him. He needed that, he needed John's strength and control to overwhelm him. He needed to be owned by the man that would soon be standing on the other side of the door. The knowledge hit him like a tornado and almost forced him to his feet and towards the door. The only thing stopping him was knowing that he was completely naked, bar his collar, and that if he were to open the door, John would be completely enraged at the possibility of someone else seeing him like that. With that thought giving him strength, Punk found the ability to stay where he was and stick with his plan.

The sound of keys jingling against the lock and the muffled cursing that followed brought him out of his own head just in time to see John burst through their door.

"Punk why the hell don't my keys…" John trailed off when Punk felt his eyes settle on him. The intensity of the blue gaze forced his breath to lodge in his throat, just as it did the first time their eyes meet across the locker room years prior. They belonged together, they may have gone through hell to realize it, but it was moments like this that reminded them both of that simple fact, they were it for each other.

A soft touch of fingers grazing over his head drew his thoughts back to the present. A soft whimper threatened to escape Punk at John's soft and loving caress. As much as Punk loved to feel John's hands twisting and pulling his hair when it was longer, the gentle touches he seemed to constantly be receiving to his scalp since he shaved all his hair off was almost better. A large hand clasping the back of his head tightly pulled him out of his own thoughts and he realized he had let his mind wander yet again.

Once Punk turned his head up at the silent command to meet his master's eyes, John leaned down and pressed his lips to Punk in a kiss that could only be described as a claiming, it was untamed and controlling. And it made Punk willing to do anything, pliant to John's every want and need. Just as that action always had.

"I love this surprise," John's full lips whispered against his own, just before leaning in and nipping at the ultra sensitive skin around Punk's lip ring, "but that doesn't mean you won't be punished for screwing around and locking me out of my own home." Punk was able to pull his head back just enough to get a good look at the smirk crossing over John's face, causing one of his own before John pulled him back to John in another heart pounding, soul binding kiss.

So caught up in the sensations of John's lips pressed against his own sending electric jolts throughout his body, Punk didn't even realize that John was picking him up and holding him against his body until he felt his back pressed against the wall and John's cock grinding into his own.

"As hard as this is to do, we need to stop." John told him pulling his body back and letting Punk slowly slide to the floor, making sure every dip in the smaller man's body rubbed against him along the way.

"The hell we do!" Punk more or less screamed as he attempted to climb back up Cena's body and dive his tongue back inside the hot cavern of John's mouth. As far as Punk was concerned, that was the absolute last thing that needed to happen.

"Behave boy." John told him with a sharp slap to his backside. A hiss left Punk as the familiar feelings of giving up control came rushing back to him after so long without. "I decide what we do and how we do it, remember? That means if I tell you we're going to wait then that's exactly what we're going to do." Punk felt his body quivering at the power hidden behind those words. This wasn't John Cena anymore, this wasn't just the muscular man whose presence drew people's attention. This was his Master, the one man who could bring him to his knees and make his enjoy every second of it. This was the man who took control of CM Punk when nobody else could. This was the man that Punk had spent weeks waiting to see again and now that he had him, everything else just seemed to fall into place. He didn't need to worry anymore, John would take care of all of that.

"Yes Sir." Punk softly replied, his head dipping down to stare at his feet while he worried his lip.

"Don't sound so disappointed pet, I know you'll enjoy each and everything I have planned." John told him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek, forcing his head up, as the other slid down his back to rest just over the marking and pull Punk flush to his body once more.

And, as Punk stood in the steaming shower leaning back against the strong body of his lover, Punk had to admit that John was right. The soap and water sliding down his back making John's chest rub against him even more smoothly than usual. And as a slick hand made it's way down his body to gently cup his balls and roll them in the warm palm, Punk silently thanked whatever it was that had caused both he and John to fight for each other all those months ago.

"I love you." He told the man standing behind him, holding him up and supporting him as much as he always did.

"I love you too." John told him as his hand started working it's way up and down his cock, adding a little twist every time he reached the head.

Punk couldn't help but smile, he could never get enough of the man and hearing him declare his love for him again just made everything almost perfect. But there was still something missing, something he didn't know he couldn't live without until John took control of him on that fateful night a year ago.

"Then show me. Show me you love me Sir, your way." Punk didn't completely understand the tingle of excitement that shot down his spine at the sexy smirk John leveled on him just before turning off the water, but Punk knew he would never stop aiming to make John that happy forever.

Getting out of the shower, Punk couldn't control his excitement. He didn't think it was possible to get any harder, but as he felt the tightness and need in his groin, Punk found out that it was possible. And when they made their way into the bedroom, only to have John shove him down on the bed, Punk couldn't even begin to think about how he managed to control himself enough not to come.

Watching John cross over to the dresser where all the toys were kept left Punk shaking with excitement. After so many weeks without each other, he could only imagine what John's imagination was able to come up with. But when John turned around with a rope in his hands, Punk felt absolutely clueless. None of the scenarios he thought of included this, they were moving into uncharted territory for their relationship. He wasn't sure if he was more terrified or turned on by that knowledge.

"You look nervous boy. Something you want to share?" John was using that voice, the one that commanded his attention and obedience while also giving him confidence and security.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, he quietly responded with a quick "No sir."

"Good, now on your back," was the curt reply. Punk hastened to obey the simple order and he didn't have long to wait before John's plan started to play itself out. The rope was softer than Punk had anticipated and he couldn't deny how amazing it felt rubbing against his skin. When Punk's brain was able to focus on more than just coming as soon as possible, he needed to remember to ask John where he learned to do this.

The rope crisscrossed his back and chest in an intricate pattern that rubbed along his nipples and included tying his hands behind his back. The next thing he knew two separate strands were being pressed together and run down the crevice of his ass to rub in the most delicious way against his opening before separating to wrap around and trap his cock and balls in a tormenting grip. Punk was panting long before the process was done and when John ran his fingers along the rope, dipping into his crack and teasing the puckered entrance he found there, Punk could only moan with a pure, primal need.

"Sir please I need…"

"What boy, what is it you need?"

"You, just you."

Punk looked up into John's heated eyes and saw something shift behind that bright blue. His master was coming out to play and Punk could hardly wait. John's fingers continued to rub along the lines of the rope, alternating the amount of pressure, until Punk was on the verge of becoming a sobbing mess. There were no more actual words left in him, only desperate sounds begging for his lover's touch.

"I don't think you've figured out the best part of this little design of mine yet boy." Punk knew he should be nervous about the tone John's voice took on, but his trust in his lover was too much. And when he felt the ropes begin to slide up his thighs, his legs being held up and his opening on display, Punk realized that trust was well placed. That, and his lover was a fucking genius. An uncontrollable need washed over Punk, his hole clenching in anticipation when John's weeping tip slapped against his thigh.

Punk looked up at John through hooded eyes just in time to see another positively evil smirk overtake John's features before he dropped to his knees and Punk felt his tongue gliding around the tender muscles of his most private area. The place that Punk had given over to John time and again. A deep probing into his sensitive muscles pulled him from his thoughts, the slick heat forcing it's way in until Punk had no choice but to open up at John's demand. Fuck this was amazing. And when the blazing heat slid up and suddenly his balls were wrapped up in the greatest tortured pleasure he had ever known. Punk couldn't think of any time he had been more at peace. In that moment, Punk knew that making the decision to mark himself forever as John was the greatest thing he had ever done. And if this was how John reacted, then Punk knew he would make that same decision over and over again.

Suddenly, John's hands were wrapping around his thighs and pulling him to the edge of the bed. "I'm done waiting." John all but growled down at him before the head of his cock slowly worked it's way into Punk.

"Ugh." Punk wanted to speak, wanted to say something, but words were just beyond him at this point, it was all he could do to pull in ragged breaths. He glanced up and met his Master's gorgeous eyes as John stared down at him, not even bothering to hide the possessive gleam in his gaze. The image of that strong man, a warrior in every sense of the word looking at him in that way sent a shot of lust straight down his spine.

"Please." The words was gasped out, barely audible, but Punk was desperate. It didn't matter though, it had just the affect he wanted. John snapped out of his stupor, hips immediately withdrawing, before he slammed back into Punk, John's firm grip on his legs the only thing that kept him from sliding up the mattress.

A scream of pleasure ripped from Punk as John pushed his legs even farther back. John was all but snarling as he hovered over Punk, watching his dick saw in and out of Punk's willing body. Punk's eyes slide close at the overwhelming delight he was experiencing. The calloused palm left Punk's thigh, but before he could comprehend what was happening, the heavy hand landed in a smack against Punk's ass, right over his newest tattoo.

* * *

John couldn't help himself, he slapped that gorgeous marking over and over again, but by appearances, Punk didn't seem to mind at all. Something that John had been struggling with for so long finally settled in his mind. Punk was his and his marking was on that amazing man permanently now, whether Punk was in a situation where he could wear his collar or not, it would be there, reminding them both of what they had found in each other.

John couldn't hold out much longer, and a driving need was filling him to hear Punk acknowledge it as well. "I like reminding you what's there, reminding you what it means and who you belong to." His voice was course and filled with lust, the deep growl barely resembling his normal timbre.

He needed to hear Punk acknowledge it as well, he needed to hear him say just how important John was to him.

Those deep brown eyes locked onto his, and his heart stuttered in John's chest. His strokes slowed to a stop as the emotions of the moment overtook them both. "I belong to you sir, forever and for always I'm yours." John lowered his head until his forehead touched Punk's, then he lowered his lips to gently graze over his lover's. When John felt Punk completely surrender underneath him and become his submissive in every sense of the word, he lost what little control he had managed to scrap together.

He began pounding into the willing man beneath him, his tempo erratic yet perfect. Second by second, stroke by stroke they both drew closer to that precipice, both reaching desperately to fall over the edge into unimaginable pleasure. John managed to pull himself up enough to watching his dick disappear into Punk's tight hole over and over, the sight immediately pushing John over that edge. He somehow kept himself together long enough to wrap his fist around Punk's cock and, in a few short strokes, pull his lover to that pleasure with him.

When it was all over, the ropes untied and dropped heedlessly to the floor, the overheated skin wiped down by a cool cloth, the two men lay wrapped in each other's arms. Punk enjoying being held by his Master, reminding him just how safe he was. Eventually, John couldn't contain his need any longer and turned his sub onto his stomach, his gaze instantly going to the silver and black tattoo covering most of Punk's right cheek.

He could only sit and stare at the gorgeous marking covering the smooth skin. A perfect replica of his collar stood out against the slightly tanned skin. A set of dog tags, the same engravings as on the actual collar stood out easily. One read simply, "John Cena" and on the other "Forever and For Always." John couldn't help but to silently reach out and trace the pattern. A rush of desire and possession surged though John once more when he heard the contented sigh those actions pulled from Punk.

"Mine." John said, looking up into his love's eyes after the simple statement to see a small smile tug at those gorgeous lips. "Yours." A soft whisper replied.

Pure elation overtook every other emotion John had been feeling. His collar was now permanently on his sub, just the way he had always wanted.


End file.
